


That'll Hurt

by RueRambunctious



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, BAMF Molly, BAMF Women, Blood and Gore, Dark Molly, Disfigurement, F/M, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Jim Lets His Suit Get Dirty, Loyalty, Protective Jim, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-03
Updated: 2016-11-03
Packaged: 2018-08-28 20:43:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8462305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RueRambunctious/pseuds/RueRambunctious
Summary: Molly's almost flattered that someone thinks she's special enough to Jim to abduct and torture.She likes the scars, whatever Jim thinks.People look at her. She's not invisible, meek Molly anymore.





	

“...Jim? Hi.”

Bound to a chair and loomed over by three rather most unpleasant men, Molly still does not miss the angry catch in Jim Moriarty's throat carried over the mediocre phone connection.

“Where are you?” he asks coldly.

“As if I'd know?” Molly responds patiently. She is very aware of the menacing presences surrounding her and heaves a breath.

She most certainly screamingly _does not_ want to say the following sentence. “I'll understand you know. If you don't come.”

The men surrounding her frown, but the silence from Jim which follows is somehow audible fury. He eventually bites out, “I don't let people take what's mine.”

Molly tries not to laugh, because she knows it will sound hysterical. “My appeal was dubious beforehand; I don't think there's going to be much left to claim when they're done.”

Jim's voice is unusually soothing, a firm authority cloaked in a soft lilt. “Mollikins. You might have to endure these nasty men for a while, but I promise you, _I am coming for you_.”

Molly swallows, because that gives her a surge of hope, and she really cannot afford to be disappointed.

“I used to hurt myself when I was younger, did you know?” she says quietly. “Bit worrying seeing all that blood the first time I cut down to the bone, but I don't remember it hurting. Just a floaty feeling. Let's hope it's like that this time, right?”

“Molly...”

Molly presses her eyes closed. “I don't want you or the boys to feel guilty. If… People die all the time Jim.”

He makes a noise like the beginning of a growl then abruptly cancels the call.

Molly feels her insides plummet. That's it then.

She resigns herself to agony then death, and tries to console herself in that these men took her because they ridiculously thought that she was _special_.

Farcically, they thought that _she_ mattered to Jim.

Molly almost thinks that she's delusional with blood loss and trauma when she notices one of the men crumple to the floor.

Sebastian? He gives her a horrified look then schools his expression, and Molly tries to follow his movement.

And then there's Jim, unshaven in a crumpled, bloody suit, and isn't it funny what your broken mind can show you when it is subjected to the extremes of pain?

Molly is almost impressed with herself. To imagine that she could have that sort of effect on Jim Moriarty.

She is in such a lot of pain.

Her three torturers are on the floor and someone blond is stepping behind her chair and yet she isn't cringing. The blond kneels, touching her bindings, and he smells very much like Severin's sweat and antiperspirant. 

“Molls?”

That's when Molly considers with a start that maybe she is not hallucinating: because there is no way she could ever have imagined that raw thing masquerading as Jim's voice.

Molly swallows, which feels a bit – a lot- unpleasant when her throat hurts so much from screaming. “You… came...” she says, and the words sound almost unintelligible to her own ears, but Jim frowns and declares in a clipped voice, “Of course we did.”

Severin gets Molly unrestrained and she slumps a bit before she remembers to at least _try_ to hold herself up. Jim and Severin are there immediately, helping keep her upright.

She splutters a bit on her own blood. “Hope the car's not far,” she croaks.

“I'll carry you,” Rinn promises. Jim presses his lips together unhappily but does not argue: Severin _is_ stronger and he'll get her out of here quicker than Jim could.

Molly tries her best to get to her feet, swaying and struggling to see through her grey, distorted vision.

Somehow she still managed to notice the men on the floor. She grabs a scalpel from the tray beside her, already slippery with her own blood, and falls heavily to her knees.

Jim catches her shoulder, steadying her, but does not try to pull her back. Molly doesn't really notice his expression as she slashes angrily at the flesh beneath her, just barely steadied by knowing he's _there_.

Severin and Jim exchange looks.

“C'n… bring me… next one?” Molly pants.

Severin raises his gaze back to Jim questioningly. The brunet gives a small nod.

Severin drags over a near dead body. Molly latches onto it, a fascinating singleminded glint to her eyes that Jim finds both concerning and thrilling.

Molly slumps after a while, so very, very exhaused.

“Let's go,” Jim says gently.

Molly cannot risk shaking her head. Too woozy. “Next… … ...one...”

Severin presses his lips together but obeys.

Molly swallows, softly coughing more blood up over her cracked lips, and holds out a swaying hand. “Saw...”

Jim blinks and moves his gaze to the array of torture implements. He holds down the thought that they were for Molly. “Bone saw?” he asks in a soft hiss.

Molly makes a noise meant to be agreement.

Jim understands and hands down the tool.

Molly's worked with these before, but she is far clumsier than usual. She can barely hold it. She can barely hold herself up in a crouch.

Jim drops down to his knees by her, filth marring his trouser legs unnoticed. He steadies Molly's arms as she dismembers the torturer. Inhales Molly heavily as she opens up the ribcage and drops down the saw, burying her broken, bleeding hands in the still warm, red and purple mess.

She rips everything apart like a crazed cat destroying a Christmas tree.

“We really need to get going,” Sebastian warns in a low voice.

The blond is watching the door, shoulders still and vibrating a little with protective anger. He's still probably the most accurate shot in England.

Molly pulls a trophy from the mess and nods just a little bit, allowing Jim and Severin to help her up. She is passed out in Rinn's arms before they make it to the car.

Jim's lips are a mere white line in his drawn face.

“Doctors are waiting,” Sebastian reassures as the car screams away.

“We're going to need the best plastic surgeon,” Jim says roughly.

Molly's in no state to consent or not to the first bout of facial reconstruction, but she refuses the rest, to Jim's confusion and angry frustration.

She can't word things properly, so she reaches up painfully to the neck of Sebastian's teeshirt and pulls him down. She places her palm gently, apologetically, over his scarred cheek.

“What's this remind you of?”

Sebastian blinks, and suddenly he gets it. He meets Jim's eyes and says, “That Jim saved my hide when I didn't expect anyone to.”

Molly slumps back against her pillows, exhausted. That she has any energy for fighting at all is astounding.

And she has fought. Screaming matches with Jim because he only wants to fix her and she won't let him.

“It's _different_ ,” Jim insists.

“How is it?” Sebastian asks.

Jim glares. “She's a _girl_.”

Molly snorts. “I wasn't much to look at to begin with, Jimmy. You're not losing anything.”

“This isn't about you being my trophy!” Jim snaps, offended. “You can have any face you want! Just… People will stare, Molls. They won't be kind.”

Molly chuckles softly, even though it hurts her ribs. Everything hurts, although she's dosed up to her eyeballs enough that she doesn't writhe on the mattress in tears.

“Might be novel to be seen for once,” Molly teases.

Jim presses his lips together.

“Jim,” Molly says. “I've seen what I look like. I was never vain. I don't want to hide this.”

Jim shakes his head miserably although he already knows she'll get her own way. All he sees when he looks at the mess of her face is how much he has failed her.

And God, how she surpassed what could reasonably be expected of her. Didn't say a word.

And it took his big brain such a painfully long time to find Molly. Literally agonising wait for her.

She didn't even expect him to come for her.

Fucking hurts.

But she tilts her chin at him challengingly like her broken body has fight left in it and Jim cannot possibly deny her what she wants for her own body. Not after this.

Molly frowns the first time they brave going out together, and Jim wants to burn everyone to a husk. He'll call a surgeon at once.

But Molly's eyes glitter in amusement.

By the end of the week she's grinning, pulling Jim and Sebastian or Severin by the hands as she tugs them outside for no reason at all. Well, just for her to be looked at.

She loves it with a grim glee that makes Jim's heart pound.

People flinch at the sight of Molly and she loves it. Her posture is proud and intimidating, her smile wide and dark and her mirth radiating from her pores.

“Perhaps you were vain after all,” Jim drawls at last. “Just in a rather peculiar way.”

And brave, not remotely broken Molly sweeps the short man off of his feet and kisses him with a ferocity she's never shown him.

Jim's eyes widen for a moment and then he is responding hungrily, and he is utterly fascinated by the bumps of her cheek under his fingers.

Severin whistles playfully and Sebastian leans against his brother, smiling at the pair.

“You never fail to surprise me, Molly Hooper,” Jim says at last, licking his kiss swollen lips.

She smiles. “Let's put the world at their feet, Jim,” and then she's turning away, smirking playfully at the appreciative, predatory glint in his dark eyes.


End file.
